


[Mother]Ship

by LoveChilde



Category: Power Rangers in Space
Genre: Bossy Ship, Computers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Nightmares, Teenager in way over his head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 22:51:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2206023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveChilde/pseuds/LoveChilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alone after the defeat on KO-35, DECA is Andros' only support, friend and ally. He never expected her to boss him around though...</p>
            </blockquote>





	[Mother]Ship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosabelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosabelle/gifts).



> Extra treat for [rosabelle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rosabelle), since I've finally watched enough of Space to fic it. 
> 
> Beta by [Hagar](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hagar), [wildforce71](http://archiveofourown.org/users/wildforce71) and [SailorSol](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorSol). Title suggested by SailorSol as well. My gratitude to all.

The explosions, sirens and screams of the people of KO-35 turned into a wailing klaxon and the harsh glare of ship’s lights, and Andros’ own hoarse yell as he threw himself out of his bunk, rolling before he was anything like awake. Something reached for him and he pulled back sharply with another shout. 

“ _Medical emergency. Medical emergency. Medical emergency. Med-_ ”

“DECA, _stop_!” His own voice sounded shrill and stressed, his heart racing, every nerve strumming with tension. “What medical emergency?”

“You appear to be in distress, Andros. Elevated pulse, respiration uneven, crying out in probable pain.” The ship’s computer, the only other voice Andros had heard in over a week since KO-35 was defeated and abandoned, sounded infuriatingly calm. “The conditions were met for the activation of emergency medical protocols.”

“Oh.” And now Andros felt impossibly idiotic. “There is no emergency, DECA. It was just a nightmare. A bad dream.” 

The klaxon cut off abruptly, and the lights dimmed back to ship’s ‘night’, leaving an echoing emptiness behind them. 

“Is medical care not required?” DECA sounded curious, as much as a computer could. 

“N-no.” Now that he remembered the dream, Andros swallowed hard and ran a hand over his face, in case he was actually crying, and not just dreaming he had been. “A glass of water would be welcome, though.” 

“I can do that.” There was a note of relief in the computer’s voice- or perhaps Andros imagined it. He pushed himself up and got the glass of water from the hatch DECA usually produced food through, holding it in a trembling hand.

“I’m going to spend the rest of the night in Zhane’s room.” He wasn’t even sure why he was telling DECA this: she could (and would) track him through the ship, wherever he went. The computer beeped an acknowledgement, and Andros took his blanket with him, and spent the night leaning against the cryo-pod, talking to Zhane. He knew his best friend couldn’t hear him, but he didn’t care. Talking to him made things just a little bit better. 

***

Eventually, Andros started to spend every night in ‘Zhane’s room’. It wasn’t quite as suited to sleeping as his own room, but he didn’t sleep much, anyway. He sat next to the cryo-pod for hours, talking to Zhane about anything and everything, just rambling. He just wanted to hear a voice, any voice but DECA’s. The cool, precise digital voice rubbed against his raw nerves, and even his own voice, stumbling and stuttering and occasionally breaking, was better. The Power made him need less sleep, and adrenalin took care of everything else, for a while. 

One night, he found the door to the cryochamber locked. 

“DECA, could you open the door please?”

“I’m afraid I cannot.” The same neutral tones reported what Andros initially thought was a technical issue.

“What do you mean, ‘cannot’? Are the wires fused or something?” The ship hadn’t taken any hits in recent fights, but corrosion and regular wear and tear still happened. 

“The mechanism is fully operational,” DECA reassured him, “but for your own sake, I cannot unlock the door.”

“For _my_ sake?” He scowled. “DECA, explain.”

“You have been spending too long in the cryochamber. Instead of sleeping and renewing your energy, you stay awake and expend more energy. Soon, you will not be able to fulfill your role as Red Ranger. I cannot allow this to happen. You will sleep in your own room tonight.” 

“No!” He pounded on the door, knowing it was futile, “DECA, you can’t do this! Let me in there!” Zhane was all he had left, she couldn’t separate them like that. It wasn’t fair. “DECA, I’m ordering you to let me in!”

“I am not programmed to obey orders which will directly or indirectly harm you.” The ship’s computer definitely sounded smug, now, “I have failsafes. And until you reach the age of legal majority, I am programmed to see to your needs when you refuse to do so.” 

“Please,” It was pointless to negotiate or beg, when talking to a computer; DECA was programed a certain way and couldn’t act against her programming; he knew that, but still he tried, “Please, DECA, he’s my best friend. He’s all I’ve got left.”

“And I will monitor him closely for you, Andros. You must sleep. You will need all your strength.” 

She was right. He would need all his strength to fight the real enemy and protect people, and couldn’t waste time or energy on fighting with his one remaining ally. It took all the control he could muster not to punch and kick the walls, to be mature and calm about it. He couldn’t let himself think about his best friend, lying frozen just out of reach, kept safe but not really alive, and about just how alone it made him. There was no time for self pity. 

“Fine.” There was no point in arguing further. He’d serve Zhane best by fighting, and by eventually winning, so his friend could be restored somehow. By at least lasting long enough to let the cryo-pod to heal him, however long it took. 

“Sleep well, Andros.”

He didn’t, of course. 

***

The third time he came crashing out of a nightmare, two days later, he disabled DECA’s medical emergency protocols in a fit of rage, despite the computer’s protests. He was sick and tired of the blaring siren and flashing lights. 

In fact, he was just flat out exhausted. There was still a war going on, with Dark Spectre sending his Quantrons out to harass various colonies, and Andros was the only space Ranger left, now that Zhane was gone and the militias had scattered. DECA got him where he was most needed, he fought until the fight was over or until he was too injured to continue, and then he returned to the ship to heal and get whatever rest he could. Being woken out of nightmares was interfering with that. Every night, almost, he’d wake up in a tangle of covers and cold sweat. With the door to the cryochamber still locked to him, there was nowhere he could hide from the nightmares, nothing he could think of to fight them with. So he punched buttons with vicious energy, taking out his frustration and fear on the keyboard. Maybe he’d finally have some quiet. 

Of course, with the emergency protocols disabled, the next time there was an actual medical emergency, DECA did nothing while Andros choked and gagged on poison gas, until he managed to drag himself to the ship’s medical center and fumbled the code that triggered the protocols again. He made it in time, but only just barely.

***

“This cannot continue, Andros.” DECA sounded clearly disapproving. “I cannot support and help you if you disable my protocols whenever they do not suit you.” 

Andros, woozy and weak as a kitten, glared at the wall through the oxygen mask strapped firmly to his face, and flinched as a robotic arm pressed a hypospray against his shoulder without warning. Now that the antidote was working, his mind was clearing up a little again, but this was the closest he’d come to dying since he started working alone, and it was a bit of a shock, emotionally as well as physically. The last thing he wanted and needed was DECA scolding him. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

“DECA, I have to _sleep_.” It hurt to talk, and it still hurt to breathe, and he didn’t want to discuss it at all. “I can’t do that if you initiate emergency protocols every time I have a nightmare.” 

“Then reprogram my protocols to suit your needs, instead of disabling them.” The computer didn’t add _you idiot_ , but still made Andros feel like one- why hadn’t he thought of that?

“Could- could you teach me how?”

“Of course.” 

DECA showed him how to program her, over long days in between fights and in transit between planets that needed his attention. It kept him busy and distracted, and provided a mental challenge, without the added pressure of his own life and the lives of others being at stake. The first thing he reprogrammed was her response to his nightmares: only weeks after the first incidents, he provided her with the physiological data needed to differentiate between injury and the physical symptoms of nightmare-induced panic, and wrote an appropriate response protocol. With this new knowledge, he could make his new home, his base, his support system, better suited to his needs. 

***  
Again, he bolted upright, heart pounding and mouth dry with terror. But this time, the lights were muted, there was no klaxon, and there was an oddly soothing note in DECA’s cool voice. 

“It was only a bad dream, Andros.” The tone and inflection were just right. “Just a nightmare. You are safe.” 

He knew that last was a lie, when he programed it, but the Megaship was the one place where that lie was as close to being true as he could get, these days. 

“Thank you, DECA.” He swallowed away the bad taste in his mouth and scrubbed at his eyes, as the dispensing hatch beeped and opened to reveal a glass of water. If Andros was still awake fifteen minutes after first waking up, a secondary protocol would produce a warm drink, but tonight he didn’t think he’d need it. 

“Will you need anything else?” 

“No, thank you.” She’d learned when to leave him alone, too, for which Andros was grateful. An over-protective ship’s computer had not featured into what he’d imagined his life as a Ranger would be. But then, neither had most of what his life as a Ranger actually turned out to be, so he supposed it made sense, in a way.

***

It took him almost a year to figure out how to hack through DECA’s protection failsafes, and even so, he wasn’t yet sixteen, and so not a legal adult, when he finally worked out the hack that allowed him to open the door to the cryochamber. He never used it. 

DECA was right: he couldn’t cling to the past, if he wanted to have a future. Besides, he was too busy, and too used to being alone, to fall back into the old patterns. He had DECA and her programming, he had his duties as a Ranger. He had enemies, and occasional, rare allies. He had to believe it would be enough, until he won. But in the depths of his mind, where even DECA couldn’t scan, he still talked to Zhane, all the same.


End file.
